


When He Smiles

by mediwitch3



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Pining, mentions of other pack members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott is four when he first meets Isaac</p>
            </blockquote>





	When He Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> okay so I got a bunch of prompts from anons and I ended up combining them… This is also for the mating day of scisaac week, but that’s not until sunday and I wanted to post this so… yeah I hope you enjoy it. Leave me feed back?

Scott is four when he first meets Isaac. Isaac with his bright eyes and curly hair and ray-of-sunshine smile that curves over his lips and makes Scott’s heart flutter. Scott’s got asthma and messy hair and is a little slow on the uptake so he keeps his distance and makes friends with Stiles, who has ADHD and talks too much for Scott to keep up most of the time, but he’s nice and he shares his Capris Sun at snack time.

  
  


During free play, Stiles chatters endlessly beside him, handing him Lego after Lego and ordering him where to put them, his brain moving a mile a minute as he tries to form a house/car/sky scraper. Scott only half listens to him, because he realizes at this point that not everything Stiles says is essential to the conversation. Scott just does as he’s told, eyes trailing over to watch Isaac flip pages in the book he’s pulled out. Scott likes that Isaac is so smart—he’s only four, but he can read and write better than Scott can, and he doesn’t ever mess up the days of the week.

  
  


Stiles gets angry when Scott accidentally tries to put the next Lego down without looking at the building and knocks it over. He sends Scott away with an _“I’ll talk to you at snack time”_ , and Scott edges over towards the book bunker, where Isaac has chosen a new book. Scott stands there in front of him, nervously shifting his pigeon-toed feet, trying to work up the nerve to say something.

  
  


“ _Will you read to me?_ ” he squeaks, blood rising high in cheeks as he immediately regrets saying anything. Isaac looks up, startled, and smiles his ray-of-sunshine smile. Scott’s heart is beating out of his chest because that smile is _home_. He wants to curl up in that smile and stay there forever, be the reason those lips pull back over shiny-white teeth and curve up in welcome, in amusement, in happiness.

  
  


“ _Sure_ ,” Isaac says, and pats the spot next him, still smiling. Scott’s mouth forms a crooked smile of its own, and he sinks down next to Isaac as the other boy pulls the book closer. Isaac starts reading aloud, and Scott thinks he’d like to listen to Isaac talk forever.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Isaac is eight when his dad starts hitting him. At first it’s just when he’s drunk, but it escalates quickly because Isaac looks _just like his mom_ , and is _the little brat that killed her in the end._

  
  


Isaac knows his mom’s death wasn’t his fault, but his dad doesn’t see reason, doesn’t see that the cancer is to blame, and not his eight-year-old son.

  
  


When Isaac is nine, Cam dies. It’s then that Isaac realizes he’s never going to be free. Never going to get his dad back, because it’s just them, just him and dad, no mom or brother to buffer his dad’s rage.

  
  


The first time his dad breaks his arm, Isaac tells everyone that he fell out of a tree he was climbing. His broken ribs are harder to explain, but he manages to convince everyone that he fell into one of the graves his dad was digging. The bruises and cuts on his face and arms never get questioned, although he’s sure people know that he’s being beaten up by his dad.

  
  


Isaac is nine and he can feel the worried eyes of Scott McCall following him around the classroom. They don’t speak to each other.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Scott is fourteen when his dad leaves him and his mom. While he knows they’re better off without him, he still feels a little lost, because he’s still his _dad_ , even if he turned into a drunken bastard in the end. And while Stiles is a big help in getting past it all, he still feels like he’s missing something.

  
  


It becomes clear to him just what he’s missing when he gets condolences from just about everybody in class, because somehow people knew that his dad was a woman-hitting bastard and even his loser status didn’t make that okay, except Isaac Lahey. Not that Isaac talks to anyone, really.

  
  


It makes Scott sadder to think about how withdrawn Isaac has become. He misses his bright blue eyes, his ray-of-sunshine smile, his kind voice. They were friends once, he remembers, but that was a long time ago. Now they’re fourteen and broken and afraid to overstep boundaries.

  
  


So Scott sticks with Stiles, watching Isaac from afar like he has since he was four, and he expects to do for a long time yet.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Scott is sixteen when he gets turned into a werewolf. He meets Derek Hale and falls in love with Allison Argent and almost kills his best friend but in the end they somehow manage to kill the alpha.

  
  


It’s not until the kanima incident that Scott starts interacting with Isaac again. It’s brief, but it’s enough. Enough to remind him of how much he misses him. Because the Isaac that sits in front of him in chem isn’t his Isaac. This Isaac is all steely-grey eyes and sharp smirks and leather and Scott hates him.

  
  


When Scott sees Isaac at the rave, he realizes that his Isaac is still there, in the downcast eyes and soft smile and incredulous look he gives Scott when Scott tells him _to be careful_ and that he _doesn’t want him to get hurt._

  
  


And Scott subtly guides Isaac’s hands on the syringe and his thumb burns from where it caresses Isaac’s knuckle and he moves away quickly because Isaac has things to do and Scott needs to find Stiles.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


Isaac is sixteen when his dad dies. He meets Derek Hale and turns into a werewolf and gets a family, a _pack_ , that loves him and he is finally, _finally_ , free. Only, Jackson is a kanima and that makes things harder for everyone involved. And then Erica and Boyd decide to leave but Isaac doesn’t know what to do because he’s never had a family like this before and he doesn’t want it to end, so he goes to the only person he’s ever known to notice him, even before the transformation.

  
  


“ _Why are you asking me for advice?_ ” Scott asks, his face that puppy-dog innocence that lingers from his childhood. Isaac pauses to consider.

  
  


“ _Because I trust you_ ,” he tells him, and the answer is simple, really. He trusts Scott in a way he doesn’t—can’t—trust Derek and Erica and Boyd. Because while they’re _pack-family-home_ , they’ve only been that for the last few months. Scott’s been with him his whole life, even if they haven’t spoken or been friends, Scott has always been there, watching him. Watching _over_ him. Scott had been the one constant in his life since he was four, he could always count on Scott to be there, across the classroom, watching from the corner of his eye.

  
  


And then it’s over. Jackson is _pack_ , Scott is _pack_ , Derek and Erica and Boyd and Stiles are _pack_ , and even though they’re not all together Isaac can feel them like he’s always felt _pack_.

  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  


It’s Allison who notices first—which makes sense, since she’s Scott’s ex-but-still-friendly-girlfriend.

  
  


“That’s Isaac’s jacket,” she tells him, because it’s not a question. Scott looks confused for a second, before realization dawns on his face and he grips the lapel of said jacket as if to say “oh, this one?”.

  
  


“Yeah, I mean,” he pauses, shrugging uncomfortably, “I was cold in chem, and he offered, so…”

  
  


Allison nods, choosing not to mention the time Scott had given her his jacket when _she_ had been cold in chem. He’d figure it out. Hopefully.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*

  
  


“You smell like Scott,” Erica has always been blunt, and this time is no exception, “You smell like Scott and you smell like happiness.”

  
  


“Do I?” Isaac says dumbly, smiling slightly. Erica raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and crosses her arms.

  
  


“Yes,” she tells him, “That’s his shirt, isn’t it?”

  
  


“Uh huh,” Isaac hums in response, mouth splitting involuntarily into a grin, “We were in a rush this morning and—”

  
  


“Don’t even bother trying to lie to me Isaac,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly, “Even if I couldn’t hear the lie, you’ve been wearing his shirts all week—that in itself says something’s going on.”

  
  


“Maybe it is,” Isaac shrugs, “Maybe it isn’t.”

  
  


“Ooh,” Erica purrs, leaning forward across the table and fixing Isaac with a smirk, “That sounds more like a ‘maybe’, to me. Isaac—are you in love with Scott?”

  
  


Isaac smirks back, shrugging. A laugh is startled from his mouth as she reaches across the table to smack is shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

  
  


“Don’t play with me, Lahey,” she growls playfully, “Yes or no?”

  
  


“Yes?” his grin is mirrored on her face as she practically climbs across the table to hug him, “But it’s not like we’re together.”

  
  


“It smells like it is,” she huffs in his ear, “maybe Scott’s too dense to realize you like him back, but he definitely isn’t against the idea, I can tell you that.”

  
  


*~*~*~*~*

  
  


“Dude, is Isaac wearing your shirt?” Stiles’ face is the picture of confusion as he speaks, “That’s the third time this week—is this some weird, werewolf, scenting ritual?”

  
  


“You know he’s staying at my house,” Scott says, “Our clothes just get mixed up sometimes.”

  
  


“I don’t need to be a werewolf to be able to tell that you’re lying to me, Scott,” Stiles tells him, “He’d be able to smell that it’s not his.”

  
  


“I don’t know, man!” Scott exclaims defensively, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation,

  
  


“He’s the one wearing my shirts, why don’t you ask him? I’m just letting him do what he wants, you know? He hasn’t had the chance to do that for a long time.”

  
  


“Okay, dude, chill,” Stiles soothes, placing a gentle hand on Scott’s shoulder, “I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just curious.”

  
  


“I know,” Scott sighs, “Sorry. Can we just not talk about it? I need to get to class.”

  
  


Stiles nods at Scott’s retreating form, shouting something at him about lacrosse that doesn’t quite penetrate the haze of _why is Isaac wearing my shirts._

  
  


*~*~*~*~*

  
  


“You know Scott’s been in love with you since kindergarten and you need to do something about it because he won't and I'm tired of him pining,” Stiles says in a rush as he drops into the seat across from Isaac in the cafeteria the next day. Isaac startles, fork half-way to his mouth as he stares at Stiles in disbelief. “Don’t look at me like that, wolfy, I wouldn’t be telling you this if Scott wasn’t so dense.”

  
  


“What…” Isaac trails off, setting down his fork in defeat as Stiles starts talking again.

  
  


“I also wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t sure you felt the same way,” Stiles picks up his own fork, waving it around for emphasis as he slumps a little over the table, “I had my suspicions, what with the shirt-trading and the smiling whenever Scott’s near you, but I talked to Derek and he said you smelled like love. Also Erica told him you were in love with Scott.”

  
  


“Wow,” Isaac is a little floored—who isn’t, around Stiles, though?—and needs a moment to collect his thoughts before he responds, “Uh. So… I guess Erica can’t keep a secret then.”

  
  


“Well, to be fair,” Stiles waves his hands as if to demonstrate _fair_ , “You’re not exactly subtle. What with the staring. And touching. And _stealing_ of his clothes.”

  
  


“So… What am I supposed to do, then?” Isaac says, surprisingly cavalier about the entire situation. Stiles, who isn’t expecting such easy acceptance, pauses a moment to think.

  
  


“I think a good place to start,” he begins slowly, “would be to hang out with him more—one on one lacrosse practice, furry runs through the woods, a _movie_ , I don’t really know. I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing.”

  
  


“So, basically, what I’m doing now,” Isaac deadpans, giving Stiles a _look_. Stiles throws his hands up exasperatedly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling before returning the look.

  
  


“Well, fine! If you don’t want my help,” he gestures emphatically towards himself then spreads his hands flat across the table, palm-up , “then why did you ask for it?”

  
  


“Because I don’t want to mess this up,” Isaac states simply, shrugging slightly, “This isn’t just a school-yard crush, Stiles. I can _feel_ him, like I can feel pack, but he’s the strongest force. Like, that should be Derek, since he’s my alpha, but I carry Scott and his feelings with me everywhere, and I can feel him like I feel my heart beating. He’s just _there_ , so there that I hardly ever notice he’s there, he’s just another part of me.”

  
  


“Wow,” Stiles huffs out a sigh, turning to address his food, “I am _way_ out of my depth, here.”

  
  


*~*~*~*~*

  
  


“What are we doing tomorrow?” Isaac asks as he pulls his tshirt over his head and drops it in a pile on the floor.

  
  


“Well, it's Saturday,” Scott says contemplatively as he exchanges his jeans for a pair of pajamas, “I wanna sleep in, but we could go see the new Spiderman movie in the afternoon?”

  
  


“Sure,” Isaac agrees easily, flopping onto the bed and crossing his arms behind his head as he watches Scott get dressed, “You wanna get dinner after?”

  
  


“Might as well,” Scott shrugs, tripping over the messy floor to join Isaac on the bed, “The movie theatre's right next to the mall, so.”

  
  


“Great,” Isaac grins, picking up his book and averting his eyes, “It's a date.”

  
  


“What?” Scott looks up from where he's resting his head on Isaac's shoulder. Isaac looks down at him, his fingers pausing in the pages of the book where he searches for where they had left off the day prior.

  
  


“A date,” Isaac repeats, “Dinner and a movie? A date.”

  
  


“I—what?” Scott sits up, his face contorted with confusion, “Is this a joke?”

  
  


“Does it look like I'm joking?” Isaac asks seriously, sitting up to face Scott. The bed is small and they're almost too close but they're not focusing on standards of social conduct or spatial relations at the moment. Scott continues to look dolefully confused, as if the though of Isaac playing with him genuinely hurts. Isaac supposes it must, since he knows it would hurt him. “I'm not joking, Scott.”

  
  


“I don't really understand,” Scott admits, his gazing dropping to scrutinize the covers as his eyebrows fall into a frown. Isaac sighs; he knew Scott would be dense, but he had hoped—in vain, it seems—that Scott wouldn't need an explanation, that he'd just fall into Isaac's arms with a sigh and that would be that.

  
  


“There's not a lot to understand, to be honest,” Isaac tells him plainly, “I'm in love with you, and I'd like to date you—although, we've basically been dating since we became friends again, if you think about it.”

“You're—really?” Scott's eyes light up with barely restrained hope and excitement as he lifts his gaze once more to meet Isaac's own. Isaac chuckles lightly, his face bright with his ray-of-sunshine smile that makes Scott's heart beat double time.

  
  


“This would be a great time for you to say it back,” Isaac teases, “If you're going to, that is.”

  
  


“Dude!” Scott launches himself at his friend, grinning into the other boy's face, “I've been in love with you since, like, kindergarten.”

  
  


“I know,” Isaac laughs, “Stiles told me. He's the one who told me to talk to you because, and I quote, 'I'm tired of him pining'.”

  
  


“I didn't pine!” Scott groans half-heartedly, the effect of which is undone by his enormous smile, “He can't be trusted with anything.”

  
  


“It seems none of our pack can,” Isaac retorts, “I told Erica and she told Derek who told Stiles who told me.”

  
  


“Everyone's been conspiring against us,” Scott whines, “Now we have to _thank_ them.”

  
  


“The only thing I _have_ to do is kiss you,” Isaac tells him bluntly, “Because I've waited far too long.”

  
  


Scott's response is cut off as Isaac finally, _finally_ , does. And it's _magic_.

  
  


*~*~*~*~*

  
  


Scott is sixteen when he finds his mate in Isaac. They’re both a little broken and have a furry little problem and their pack is always arguing about _something_ but they’re happy. Isaac’s eyes are just a little less bright and his hair is just a little less curly and he smiles less than Scott wants him to but it’s okay and Scott loves him. Scott’s hair isn’t any neater and he’s no less oblivious than he was when he was four and he’s not asthmatic anymore but he does have a tendency to put himself in dangerous situations so it’s no less worrisome but it’s okay and Isaac loves him.

  
  


And it’s for Scott that Isaac smiles his ray-of-sunshine smile without thought, because Scott _is_ his smile. He’s standing on his teeth and pulling up the corners of his lips and Isaac can’t bring himself to stop because it’s _Scott_ and Scott makes him happy. Happy in the ways he never thought he’d be again. And when they’re alone at night, before bed or after dinner, Scott will curl up into Isaac’s side and listen to him read. They’ll fall asleep like that, on the couch or in bed, and sometimes Isaac has to carry Scott, snoring and drooling and restless in his sleep, up the stairs to their bed, or they wake up in the morning with a blanket draped over them with cricks in their necks, but they’re not unhappy. They never wake up unhappy. They don’t wake with dread in their stomachs or lead in their hearts knowing that this is just another day where things don’t get any better.

  
  


They wake up together, so they wake up _happy_.

  
  



End file.
